Bloodlust
by Dance.Smartly
Summary: Christine Vanderkraan is a vampire spy and mass murderer for Lord Voldemort when he is defeated by Harry Potter. Now, she must get revenge, but what if someone else stands in the way? Rated M for violence.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I do not own the Harry Potter characters yadda yadda yadda...

**Bloodlust**

I

- - -

If one were to look upon the main street of Hogsmeade at any time of the day other than this time, they would see it bustling with people looking upon the bright shops, admiring their desirable contents. But today, a day in end of an overly heated August, the streets were quiet, and the few lights that were on were dim. There were no night patrons patrolling the bars, no suspicious characters trying to scoop something from an unsuspecting store owner, not even London sewer rats scurrying around to devour garbage. No, right now, there was a quiet perfection to the town. Even Madam Rosmerta, owner of the Three Broomsticks, wasn't kept up by Madam Summers, the night bartender, who was most commonly loudly pleasuring herself with lonely men. Everyone was asleep, thinking it was just a normal, quiet night. But of course, there had to be something to penetrate the beauty of this moment.

There was a barely audible flapping sound, and it would appear to the naked eye as if a cloaked figure had just appeared in the middle of the street. The cloaked figure briskly walked down the street, her cloak flapping absently behind her. The figure took a left on a side street, where there was a path that lead to the Shrieking Shack. There, the figure fell to it's knees, and let out a wail, sending birds around it flying hither-dither in all directions. The cloaked figure pulled off it's hood to reveal a mass of dark hair atop her head. She began pulling on her hair, screaming and breaking the silence that was this night.

She stood up and began pacing, the moonlight shining on her pale skin, giving her a ghostly appearance. If one were to get closer to her, they would see that she was young, appallingly young to be out at this time of night, during these dire times. This was the age of Lord Voldemort, and this girl was one of the few that knew at the moment that The Dark Lord had just been defeated by naught but a small boy.

The girl rubbed her hands together in frustration. The Dark Lord, her master, had been defeated by a small boy by the name of Harry Potter. She spat at the thought of his name. The girl, through frustration, felt hunger befall her. She looked upon the city, where lights had began to flicker on, and a few people littered the street, confused looks on their faces, speaking quietly with their neighbors. The girl began to breathe more shallowly and licked her lips at the sight of the people, just imagining the taste of the fresh blood running through their arteries. She began absent-mindedly licking her fingers, almost tasting the blood. She closed her eyes and casually walked towards the patrons, knowing that one of them was in danger.

As she walked down the main strip, passing by older women who pointed and whispered at her and a few younger people as well, one of them looking joyous as he showed his friends a piece of paper. The girl rolled her eyes and walked into a local bar, the Three Broomsticks.

There was but a lone woman at the bar, who was skinny and tall with a distraught look on her face. She was wiping out a mug that was already sparkling as she stared out into space. The woman snapped her head around when the cloaked girl entered the bar with a soft _'tink'_ of a bell on the door.

"Hello, Christine, you're out late tonight," the bartender said to the cloaked girl, Christine, as she sat down at the bar. "Have you heard the news?"

Christine nodded apprehensively.

"Is it just a rumor, or the truth?" the bartender asked.

"Madam Summers, it is the truth, and do I lie?"

Madam Summers shook her head, and there was a moment of silence.

"Where are the men?" Christine asked. "I am surprised to see you without any tonight. Is it in light of his death?"

Madam Summers looked down at the glass she was still cleaning.

"Can you keep a secret?" Madam Summers asked, putting her throat dangerously near Christine's waiting mouth.

"If you reveal your secrets to the wind you should not blame the wind for revealing them to the trees," Christine said, quoting Kahlil Gibran.

Madam Summers laughed. "I'm in love."

Now, it was Christine's turn to laugh. "You can believe what you wish, Madam Summers, but you have told me this many times before, each of them being false."

"But this one's really special," Madam Summers said dreamily. "He really understands me, and he's young and wild..."

"That is all love is," Christine said. "Naught but young people being wild."

"As you believe. You just say that because you've never been there."

Christine licked her lips with lust as Madam Summers tossed her head back, revealing her long throat and a spot of cleavage. No, Christine did not lust for Madam Summers as the men who often visited her did. Christine had a bloodlust, for the Christine that I have been speaking of is a vampire, 6th generation of the great Dracula.

Before she could handle herself, Christine had jumped onto Madam Summers, sinking her teeth deep into the bartender's throat, sucking the blood from her with a starving desperation. When she had finished her meal, she lay the corpse on the bar, crossing the woman's arms. Christine licked her lips viciously, taking in every drop of luscious blood as if it would save her life. She licked her fingers quickly before pulling her cloak up over her head, hiding her face in shadow. She strolled casually out of the bar, the door making a soft '_tink_' with her exit. She grinned broadly as she heard someone shriek at the discovery of her last victim.

- - -

The next day, it was all over the news. "The Boy who Lived" they called him. Christine had seen the headlines on all the newspapers littering the garbage as she traveled through the back alleys in shadow. She had been, before his death, the Dark Lord's right-hand woman; a spy and mass murderer, though most saw it as a requirement to live for her. She remembered the ecstacy she had felt when she had been caught by the Magical Law Enforcement Squad, though they had forgiven her when they discovered she was a vampire, making the excuse that she was doing the killings in order to live. She had nodded, brushing off accusations that she was tied in with the Dark Lord. She would give them a girly smile, and tell them she was off to continue her business.

Of course, most of her kills were not only for the Dark Lord's satisfaction, but her own. To her, there was nothing greater than the taste of fresh blood. But this Potter boy, his death will be untimely, and it will be not one of merely satisfaction, but also, revenge. Sweet, sweet revenge, which will make this kill so much better.

Christine licked her lips and quickened up her speed until she grew her wings and flew off into the setting sun, silhouetting her body like the dark person she is.

- - -

**A/N:** I know you probably don't like this, but it's a bit of an experimental thing. Something I'll do a little bit when I'm facing writer's block in my other story. This will have Cedric in it sooner or later, but for now, it's mostly going to be Harry. Hope you enjoy anyway!


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I do not own the Harry Potter characters yadda yadda yadda...

**Bloodlust.**

II

- - -

7 years later...

Cedric Diggory stood before a brick wall at King's Cross station in London between platforms 9 and 10, feeling torn. It must have seemed odd to pass by the boy, with his trolley full of suitcases in one hand and a birdcage containing a large barn owl in the other. He stared at the brick wall, and thought of how ironic it was. It was if the brick wall was his life staring back at him. He knew he had two decisions; he could either walk through that wall, into his future, into the opportunities presented before him, or he could remain here, facing the brick wall, at a standstill. It would be so much easier to remain facing the brick wall, never having to face the prospect of his next seven years, rather imagine about what they could have been as he enjoys a more simple life. He sighed and took a step closer to the wall, his curiosity coming before what is easy. He looked up the brick wall, the endless brick wall, that stretched around him. He was enclosed within it; closed within this brick wall of his life. He could either step forward, into the fresh air but into danger, or remain painfully safe in the gouged walls of his present. He took a deep breath, closed his eyes and stepped forward, the wall giving way to his newfound independence.

He heard voices swarm him, though he kept his eyes closed. This was his next seven years, being placed before him. In fact, through process, this was the rest of his life. This fact became ubiquitous, and he felt his heart being compressed by it. He felt fear, but reminded himself that if he were to turn back now, not only would all his dreams be lost, but he would have the permanent knowledge that he gave in to his fears. He took a deep breath, puffing out his chest, and opened his eyes, uncharacteristically dropping his jaw.

There were hundreds of people before him, mostly oddly dressed parents surrounding their children, hugging them and crying. Cedric sighed, wishing his father had been able to come see him on his first day of school but of course, his father was trying to stay within his daily schedule, unable to alter it, even for this occasion. One of the reasons Cedric was afraid to leave home for long periods of time was his father, who suffered from a rare anxiety disorder known as Obsessive Compulsive Disorder which is, to this day, incurable even in the magical world. It made his father spend most of his time cleaning due to his fear of germs, repeating something constantly, or muttering to himself, which usually resulted in him retreating to his 'possessions room', where he hoards the things he no longer needs and is afraid to discard. Cedric stared down at his worn trainers and bit his lip. His mother having divorced Cedric's father 3 years ago and disappearing shortly afterwards, and Cedric having been an only child, he had become his father's caretaker of sorts, and he knew him going to school was like abandoning him. Cedric looked up at the train, at the prospect of creating an independence, without his controlling mother, and without his father who was in need of control.

Cedric knew what his job was, he knew his father's wishes. He quickly walked towards the train, approaching a train entrance where a pimply adolescent was waiting. The boy took Cedric's heavy luggage, insuring it safety, and Cedric walked onto the train, gulping as he saw many compartments ahead of him with closed doors. He hoped the rest of his school career was not like this moment; naught but closed doors.

Cedric walked down the hall, looking inside each compartment as he passed them. He saw groups of giggling girls, compartments full of slow-witted appearing boys, and a few compartments that had the curtains drawn on the windows. Cedric walked past each compartment, his stomach dropping farther and farther within him as he saw less and less promising groups of friends. He finally reached one of the last compartments where, in the corner, there appeared to be someone's things covered in a black robe. Cedric gleefully sat down in the compartment, excited about meeting whomever owns the possessions. He took his backpack off and rummaged through it, looking for his newest book, _Quidditch Through the Ages_. He felt the train rumble into motion, and looking out the window, saw countless parents crying and waving to their children. He put his hand up to the window, envisioning his father waving euphorically to his only son. Cedric hung his head low and peeled his hand off the window, staring at it.

"Parents couldn't make it?"

Cedric jumped atop his seat and let out a squeal as the black robe spoke to him. He sat back down as the robe was thrown aside to reveal a pale and gaunt-looking girl, with long black hair. She had dark eyes and deep red lips; Cedric realized that, though she seemed unusual, her plump red lips were an attractive feature about her.

"Mine either," she said, pausing. "Well, I suppose if they were able to grace us with their presence..." the girl broke out in a sly and slightly sadistic grin.

Cedric stared at her, a confused look on his face. She was so wicked, yet she had a creamy, deeper voice, and words that seemed to belong to a mature adult.

The girl stretched her hand out to Cedric. "I'm Christine, Slytherin third year. More commonly acknowledged as the, pardon my lack of proper English, 'loner gothic kid' or 'freak of nature'. It does not affect me to have such petty aliases, but perhaps it will cause you to judge me as the general public prefers to continue doing?"

Cedric took her hand and shook it, feeling her firm grip reflect her confidence. He knew that the more he spoke, the less intelligent he would be seen as in this girl's eyes. "Cedric. First year. I won't judge you, I have no friends either."

"Companions are naught but false security," she said. Cedric nodded, barely audibly frowning. Cedric had always felt a need for a companion, otherwise he would feel barricaded with loneliness. Does this girl not feel that?

"No, I do not experience loneliness," she said, causing Cedric to jump at her apparent mind-reading capabilities, "nor am I am mind reader. You see, the mind is not a book, henceforth is not meant to be simply used for reading at one's leisure. You are just predictable."

Cedric's eyes went as wide as saucers and he nodded slowly. He was so afraid of this girl and her infinite amount of knowledge, yet at the same time he was intrigued by her. She was so different from anyone he had ever met; she seemed to have a different, more skewed idea of the world. She was staring out the window now which, due to a slight crack in it, was bringing in a slight breeze, causing her hair to flow gracefully behind her. She began to absent-mindedly run her tongue over her lips, craving blood. She hadn't fed in a month, afraid that it would ruin her good reputation at Hogwarts. Her plan, so far, had been successful. She had been accepted into Harry's future school, and being that she was only 5 years older than him, she would have three years of schooling with him to seek her revenge. She was absolutely voracious for blood, almost weak from the lack of it. This Cedric boy...she could feed on him, as she had done with few and far between at Hogwarts when she was sick of the dirty blood of house elves. But she felt as if he was special. She could not feed on him yet; she wanted to know more of him. She bit her bottom lip in thought, unintentionally exposing her fangs.

Cedric let out a cry at the sight of Christine's fangs. "V...vampire?" he stuttered. "You're a v...v...vampire?"

"Yes," Christine said, sighing. "But I will not harm you. I am but a friend."

Cedric smiled brightly at her when she called him her friend. He had never been anyone's friend before, spending all his time taking care of his father. Cedric had made a friend. He felt his heart leap, and suddenly felt prosperous at the years to come.

- - -

**A/N:** I know, this is more romance/drama than action or anything right now...I had to add Cedric drama somewhere! It'll get back to it's core soon though. Once again, this is naught but an experiment, so if you don't like it...that's cool.


End file.
